


Tease

by BirdStreet



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Office Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:26:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24745309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdStreet/pseuds/BirdStreet
Summary: House decides to spend the day getting Wilson all worked up. Pretty much pure smut.
Relationships: Greg House/James Wilson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 161





	Tease

**Author's Note:**

> ...Yep. It's basically porn.

It's 8:24am, and Wilson already wants to throttle House.   
This might be a personal record. And it's not even like he'll be able to share his frustration with his equally jaded colleagues - not when House's behaviour is... not safe for work, to say the least.   
For a cripple in his forties, the diagnostician has a surprisingly voracious sexual appetite. Some people would be sated for a week after last night's activities, but it seems to Wilson that the more House gets laid, the more he wants to get laid. He supposes it must be the addictive personality. 

It's Wilson's turn to drive them to work today, and House decides to spend the journey trailing his fingers along the inner seam of Wilson's pants, while rattling off some obscure 70s band trivia. Wilson grits his teeth and grips the steering wheel.  
  
"House." 

His hand pauses mid-caress, but he doesn't move it away. "Not enjoying the extra attention I'm so generously lavishing on you?" House bats his eyelashes as Wilson pulls up to a red light. 

"Oh, I'm enjoying it. That's the problem. My first appointment today is at 9:00 sharp, and I can't have..." Wilson trails off, gesturing downwards. 

"Oh, come on. Like you've ever cared about decency in the workplace before. Remember the-" 

"House, the patient is six." 

"Ah." He moves his hand away, back into his own lap, but not before sliding his fingers a little higher and pressing down, _hard_. Wilson disguises his gasp with a cough. "You ass," he murmurs, but his heart isn't in it. House smirks.

  
  


  
It's 10:48. Wilson's schedule is packed full with patients today, so he's grabbing his breaks where he can. He heads out of his office, planning a quick visit to the men's room before grabbing a caffeine fix. A familiar figure rounds the corner just as he makes it to the bathroom door, and he ducks inside, hoping he hasn't been spotted. (This was House. Who was he kidding?) Frustration from the ride in still lingers somewhere in his core, and Wilson doesn't want to risk getting all hot and bothered again. 

"What's a guy like you doing in a place like this?" He hears the door swing open, and the familiar _step-click-step_ he's grown to love. 

Wilson sighs. "Kind of busy here," he murmurs, zipping himself up and heading for the sinks. He busies himself with scrubbing under his nails, willing House to make his exit soon, but then there's a tall presence behind him and thighs pressing against his thighs and hands wrapping around his stomach and _oh god_ Wilson is instantly hard. 

"House, we can't - this is a public bathroom," but all the while he's shivering at the long fingers stroking along his abdomen through his shirt, he's ever so slightly pressing backwards and feeling that oh, he isn't the only one reacting to this situation. "Fuck," he exhales, and reaches a still-damp hand around to push on House's ass, but the second his fingers make contact with the rough denim, the other man pulls away abruptly. 

"You're right," he says gruffly, smirking. "Can't do this here, someone might see." 

Wilson makes an almost-whine of frustration involuntarily. His pants are uncomfortably tight, and as he watches House saunter far-too-casually through the doorway, he fights back the urge to go and take care of his problem himself, in a stall. Instead, he reminds himself that in ten minutes he's got to tell a mother of three that her cancer has recurred, and that's enough to kill anyone's erection.

Post lunch - well, post apple-and-latte, since someone ate his chicken and bacon pasta - Wilson strolls to House's office. He's been paged for a consult on their patient; a linebacker who's suddenly lost the ability to speak and swallow, and now Foreman has reached the conclusion that it's somehow a rare bone cancer. Despite the liability they are to PPTH as a whole, House and his team never fail to amaze him - they're almost always right. 

He pushes open the glass door of the office, only to find the other doctor bent over his desk rather suggestively. Wilson clears his throat. 

"One second. Dropped a pill." House shifts and wiggles a little, and Wilson realises all at once that this is all very deliberate. 

"Are you - are you _teasing_ me?" he says, incredulous. His voice comes out a little higher than he'd have liked, betraying the fact that oh, the teasing is working. 

House reaches a little further, stretching his jeans to the max over his butt, then exclaims. "Gotcha," he holds the little white tablet triumphantly, before swallowing it down. Wilson narrows his eyes and raises a finger. 

"No, you - don't avoid the question. You're doing this on purpose! To frustrate me!" 

House scoffs. "Don't be ridiculous," but as he speaks he's wandering over, and Wilson finds himself wondering how a fucking _limp_ can look so damn sexy. A thumb brushes against his bottom lip, and he instantly forgets the cutting remark he was going to make. 

They're mere inches apart now, and Wilson can feel House's breath on his hair, his fingers trailing the line of his jaw, his lips so close to his forehead he can almost feel them. 

"Do you really think I'd tease you?" House's left hand is on his shirt, fingertips just about slipping below the collar. Wilson can't breathe. Hesitantly lifting his hand to House's cheek, his palm grazes the stubble, but once again - _God, not again_ \- all of a sudden he's pushed away, House returning to his desk chair, and Wilson is stood there, cheeks red, hands limp by his sides, frozen, and unbelievably turned on. 

"Might wanna make yourself look a little less flustered before the cavalry enter," House says conversationally, like he wasn't pressed up against Wilson mere seconds ago. House nods at the glass walls behind him, and winks - - _winks_! - at Wilson, before pretending to busy himself with whatever papers are on his desk. 

"Jesus," groans Wilson, before clearing his throat, rubbing his eyes, and reluctantly turning to leave. He sees Cameron and Chase approaching, and through the slight fog of arousal that still remains, he's grateful for his boyfriend's sixth sense when it comes to being caught in the act. 

"Thought your people didn't believe in him," he hears from behind him as he shuffles back to his own office, and he rolls his eyes. 

  
  
Finally, the clock ticks over to five thirty, and Wilson breathes a sigh of relief. House's teasing has been relentless, and after some very heavy (and tragically one-sided) petting in the elevator, he's spent the last ninety minutes failing to fend off an erection. He needs to get home, to show House what he wants - no, needs. The door swings open, and speak of the devil - 

"You ready for me?" House asks, only a tiny glint in his eye betraying the double entendre - but Wilson isn't having any of it. He pushes himself out of his chair, and stands, classic hands on hips pose, in front of the diagnostician. 

" _You_ ," he emphasises, then lowers his voice, "have been winding me up all day. We're gonna drive home, and you're gonna finally do all the things you've been threatening to do to me all day."

House gives an exaggerated yawn. "I dunno, I might call it an early night. Being a doctor is tiring work, y'know." 

Wilson is having none of it. On second thoughts, he might not be able to wait until they're home.

"Shut up," he orders, grabbing behind House for the door handle, and vigorously forcing it shut. House twists a little and turns the lock, and the second he moves his hand away, Wilson is upon him, pressing him up against the door. He doesn't pull away this time, instead melting into the embrace.   
"Christ, you're like a bitch in heat," House laughs, but he's breathless, and the tiny quivers in his chest send shocks all the way through Wilson to his core.  
"I wouldn't be so desperate if you - _God_ ," he inhales sharply as teeth nip along his jawline and hands curl around his hips. "You- you're the one who's been acting like such a damn _tease_ all day."

"Dunno what you're talking about." There's no bite in his voice, and even if there was, Wilson wouldn't care. Not when his hands are deftly unbuttoning his shirt and harsh lips are enveloping his own.

Pushing his lips even harder against House's, Wilson manages to drag his hands out of the older man's hair, and wastes no time in getting them to where he wants to be. As he drags his palm across the crotch of his jeans, he is both pleased and wholly unsurprised to find House is just as hard as he is. He presses the heel of his palm a little harder and jerks his hand upwards, eliciting a delicious groan from the mouth on his. House pulls his hips forward, and at that particular angle their erections grind on each other, heat on heat, and it's perfect but not enough.

House has abandoned Wilson's shirt, leaving it hanging half unbuttoned, and his hands go instead to the belt, fumbling a little but pulling them down in record time. Wilson returns the favour, and before long they're both stood, panting, pantless.

For a moment Wilson comes back into his own mind, and giggles as he glances down. 

"God, look at us. We're like a couple of horny teenagers."

"Don't care. Want to touch you," House groans.

"You've changed your tune since earlier," chuckles Wilson, but he's too far gone to really mock, and he presses back up against House's body, both their cocks straining in their underwear, the friction tantalising. They're both breathing heavily, and Wilson starts to buck his hips against House.

" _Fuck_. God, that's good. Need to - need to feel you."

House murmurs in agreement, and reaches down, tugging down his own boxers, then Wilson's briefs, just enough for their cocks to be unrestrained. He wastes no time in spitting in his palm and reaching down, and the moment skin finally touches skin is nothing short of exquisite.

"Oh. _Oh_ , oh my god, House," Wilson almost sobs, his hands on his torso, rubbing circles. "Hoooly shit."

House is jerking them now, his hand not fitting around both of their dicks but the friction from each other making it marvellous nonetheless. Almost involuntarily, Wilson starts thrusting forward, and the sensation it creates forces a gasp and a moan. He isn't totally sure who they came from, and he doesn't care. 

The pace is building up now, and both men are making tiny noises on every movement. There was plenty of time for slow, romantic lovemaking another day. This was hot and quick and frantic and just what Wilson needed.

"Jesus," House was moaning now too, a noise that Wilson would never tire of hearing from the usually restrained man. "God, Wilson, this feels so-" He's cut short by one of Wilson's hands snaking its way down to join his own, grasping them both and a fingertip doing unspeakable things to the head of his cock. " _Jesus_ , Jimmy." 

They're both thrusting upwards now, desperately edging towards release. Wilson starts mumbling incoherently, and his hand tightens, and he's so close, and in the split second before he falls over the edge into oblivion, he feels a hand reach under and gently tug on his balls. 

"Oh my FUCKING-" He's coming and coming and _sweet Jesus_ the sensation of one hand on his dick and the other on his balls as the pulses of pleasure fire through his system are incredible. Ever selfless, even through his own orgasm he doesn't forget about House, and he keeps his hand moving, and whispers his name, and seconds later he's coming too, biting down on his own lip to stifle a shout. 

They're both breathless, and, Wilson realises as he comes down from his orgasm, unpleasantly sticky. 

"Dangers of office sex, huh?" House's voice is faint, and Wilson suspects that position was hell for his thigh. He feels a swell of appreciation in his chest that he'd put up with that for him. Or maybe it's just the post coital endorphins. Despite the urgent nature of their encounter, Wilson reaches up and plants a slow, gentle kiss on his boyfriend's lips, savouring the moment. He feels a slight smile against his mouth, and that's enough to make him grin. 

"Should probably get cleaned up," House speaks quietly. 

Wilson grunts and slowly comes down off his tiptoes, attempting to pull up his pants as he hobbles away, almost falling flat on his face as he does so. He grabs the box of tissues - who knew an object so useful for grieving relatives could be so convenient for cleaning up semen too? - and throws it across to House, who nods in thanks. 

"God, that was good," Wilson sighs. 

"Still mad about me teasing you?" 

"Piss off," he laughs, but they both know this will happen again, and they'll both love every second of it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Whew! Thanks to anyone who's read. This is my first attempt at smut, so any feedback is v appreciated. Also, if you're reading my other story, Purged, the next chapter will be up very soon! Sometimes you just gotta take a break from the heavy stuff and write about two guys getting off in an office. I hope you're all well!


End file.
